Desert Blood
by heggyy
Summary: Molly's been hit and Captain James can't save her. But what if the other side managed to?
1. Stuck

"Everybody evacuate!" I roar. "Get out of here!"

We start running, heads ducked, guns pressed to our bodies. Our pounding footsteps kick up dust which clouds the air and makes us cough. Sweat trickles down the inside of my helmet, the backs of my legs, pooling in my boots. All I can see is the man in front of me, his loping stride perfectly matched to mine, and mine to the rest of the squad.

There's a shout behind me. I spin on my heel. Molly's down, her face screwed up on pain, tilted at an awkward angle due to the massive budgen she has on her back. I push past the boys behind me, throwing myself down.

"Molly!" I'm grab her face, force her to look at me. "Look at me Molly! You're going to be fine. We're going to get you out of here. But you need to tell me what to do."

She shakes her head a fraction. "Get out of here boss. Get the boys and go."

"Don't even try that on me."

She smiles back weakly, but already the colour is draining from her face.

"Molly keep talking to me. What do I do?"

"Plug the wound," she gasps. "Put pressure on it."

My hands fumble as I search her kit for the bandages, ripping off the sterile plastic wrapping with my teeth and shoving it into the wound on her abdomen. I never truly appreciated how hard Molly's job was. Watching your friends bleed out in front of you, your every move a potential death.  
"We need a medevac now," I shout into my radio. "Fingers, Smurf! Cover us. The rest of you get to the helicopter!"

Without flinching, Smurf and Finger kneel by us, their guns at the ready. If they're resenting being made to stay in crossfire whilst the rest of Two Section get to safety, they're not showing it.

There are shouts and screams around us, but it's like we're in our own bubble. All I can see is Molly and the wound. That is, until a bullet whistled past, and I'm forced to duck down.

"Go," Molly says again, so quiet I can barely hear her. "Leave me. Let them go."

"No bloody chance."

I have my hands stuffed inside the wound. I have no idea how much dust and grime has got in there. Lasting long enough to get an infection would be a miracle.


	2. Escape

I look around desperately for the medevac, praying for its distinctive buzz.

"They're closing in, sir," Smurf says, grimacing as he presses his face up against the gun. "We need to move."

"We can't move her," I retort. "We need to wait out for the medivac."

Molly's eyes are closed.

"Molly! Keep looking at me! Keep talking to me!"

She smiles. "Weird being the patient."

I force a smile. "You're always making your patients stay awake. It's harder than it looks, hey?"

She nods a little, trying to hide the pain.

"Morphine?" I ask, using my free hand to rummage through her kit.

"10mg," She gasps. "Use...the green pen...to write."

Luckily I've seen her do it before. I plunge the syringe into her stomach, and use the green chalk to write 10 M on her cheeks.

"Not that I need to," I say for her benefit. "You'll be awake and walking in no time."

"Sir." An urgency in Fingers voice forces me to look up. The field is far emptier than before I left, bodies now littering the dusty there are still ample bullets flying.

"It's jammed."

"What?" I say, confused.

"My gun. Something's jammed it."

I try not to swear in front of them. As the boss, I have to present a calm and collected facade. But inside I'm screaming.

"Take mine." Without removing pressure from Molly's wound, I unhook my gun and hand it to him. I feel naked and vulnerable. It was always drilled into a soldier to never travel without a gun, and yet here I am, in the middle of a battlefield, completely defenseless.

"Sir, I think we should try and move."

Smurf's voice breaks my thought. He's sweating profusely, his eyes scrunched up as he fires shot after shot.

"We'll be a bloody target if we start moving around."

"They're coming closer, sir. The medevac won't be able to land, sir."

"We can't move Molly."

"Right sir."

We both know he's right. And we both know we can't move Molly. We just don't know whether we'll survive this.

I can't help but wonder if I would do this for any other member of Two Section. I'm risking Fingers and Smurfs' lives to protect Molly.

"Go." I say suddenly, my decision made.

"What?" It's their turn to be confused.

"Get out of here. I'll stay here with Molly and wait for the medevac."

Smurf is already shaking his head. "No way."

"That's an order."

"No."

Fingers looks less sure.

"Go," I tell him. "Run."

But he shakes his head.

"We're staying here. And then we're all going. Together."

Suddenly I realise Molly hasn't spoken up, her usual stubbornness silenced.

"Molly? Talk to me."

Her eyes flutter open but she doesn't say anything. She's drained of colour, her head lolling to one side.

"Molly? Can you hear me?"

She nods a little.

"Don't you dare close your eyes. You're going to keep fighting. Because you're a stubborn little bugger."

I hope for a smile, but the corners of her mouth barely twitch.

"I'm talking to you Molly. Open your eyes and look at your captain."

She forces her eyes open, staring up at me.

"Now don't close your eyes. That's an order."


	3. Gone

Suddenly the wall protecting us explodes, covering us with dust. There's a burst of machine fire from both sides.

"We need to retreat," Smurf says through the radio, bracing against the recoil of the gun.

I know he's right. I've held it off as long as I can. This is war. We're on a battlefield. I have to distance myself emotionally. This isn't Molly Dawes. It's just another casualty.

"Get ready to pull back," I say.

Molly looks at me unblinkingly. She knows what's about to happen. She nods a little.

"Goodbye," I whisper, pressing my lips onto her forehead.

Then we run.

There's an explosion behind us and I'm knocked off my feet, flying forwards. I try and drag myself up, but I'm disorientated, a ringing in my ears, the sand clogging my throat as I struggle to breath. Suddenly, firm hands grab me, pulling me as my feet stumble beneath me. Then I'm in the shade of a van, jolted along as the suspension tackles the potholed roads.

It takes a few minutes for the ringing to subside and my eyes to adjust to the dark light that filters through the canvas light.

Fingers sits opposite me, a bandage pressed against a cut on his forehead. Smurf's next to him, staring blankly at the wall. Kinders is next to me. He must have grabbed me.

"Molly…?" He asks quietly.

I shake my head, barely able to look at Smurf.  
"It's not your fault."

I nod, but the words are barely processing. Of course it's my fault. I could have tried to get her. I could have brought her out. She could be lying on the floor now. Injured, yes, but not dead.

"Is the rest of the section alright?" Fingers asks.

I see Kinders nod out of the corner of my eye. It doesn't make me feel any better.

It takes longer than I expected to get back to camp. We're ushered through the gates, hobbling with our kit.

The section rushes out to meet us, their faces pressed with concern. It doesn't take them long to realise something is wrong. Fingers and Smurf are swallowed by the group. They need to go to the medical tent to get checked over. Except we don't have a medic any more.

Autopilot leads me to the cool of my tent. I automatically strip down my kit, pack my items away, check myself over for damage. Fingers still has my gun, and I desperately want to hold it, to have the power under my fingers…

I lie down on my bed, staring at the canvas ceiling. The scene replays itself over and over, until it's a blur of Molly's face and the dusty ochre of the brick wall that we were pressed against.

I must have fallen asleep, because I wake to darkness. There's a peacefulness that rarely hits the camp, and I like to think that the world is mourning Molly. Because she's dead. She's gone. She can't have survived an explosion like that.

"She's gone." I say it out loud. The words are hard and bitter in my mouth, threatening to spill hot tears onto my cheeks.

"She's gone." I repeat it, louder.

"She's gone!" I'm screaming into the darkness. I wait for someone to come, to ask me if I'm alright, to offer sympathy. But nobody does.


	4. Lost

I know I look awful. I'm unshaven, blood dried to my skin, great shadows under my eyes. I didn't sleep again, instead wandering round the perimeter of the compound, trying to take my mind off the day's events.

I walk into the mess tent. The boys are there, eating scrambled egg solemnly. They look awful too, and it's only now I remember that they've lost their medic - and a best friend too. They need leadership, and it's my job as captain to do this.

"Good morning, Two section." I try and speak authoritatively, but my voice cracks and I have to fight back tears. "Congratulations on your outstanding bravery in the field yesterday."

Normally a compliment would have some smiles, but there's nothing.

"Keep doing what you're doing. Remain vigilant."

There's an awkward pause. Eventually Mansfield Mike breaks it.

"Is it true…?" He asks tentatively. "Molly's gone?"

I nod before spinning on my heel and heading back to my tent.

"Captain James?"

"I'm busy," I croak. I know it's irresponsible, but I need some time alone.

"I'm coming in."

Captain Brown, my senior, enters the tent, and I jump up to salute.

"At ease."

I relax but can't help but remain cautious. What's he doing here?

"As you know, Two Section's medic was injured in battle yesterday?"

"Molly. Yes."

"You made the decision as captain to leave her?"

"Yes." The word sticks in my throat, my voice betraying me just like I betrayed her.

"We have intelligence suggesting that Molly Dawes is still alive."

The words take a few moments to sink in.

"What?!"

"We have been monitoring a few enemy compounds for years. Our cameras picked up a few shots of a woman being moved from a van into the compound. She was wearing army uniform."

"Molly," I breathe. Is she alive?

"We need you to identify her."

"Yes." I say immediately, already making my way out of the tent. He follows behind me, and we head to the block of computers on the far side of the compound. We pass Kinders leading a PT session with Two section, and I feel a surge of gratitude. He's keeping the boys occupied and out of trouble whilst I wallowed in guilt in my tent.

They play me a clip of CCTV. It's grainy, but I watch as a vehicle pulls up. Two men get out of the front of the van, and throw open the back. Then they're pulling out a woman. The footage is dark and pixelated. But it's definitely Molly. I watch as they drag her, her feet giving way from underneath her, towards the compound. Then the footage cuts out and loops. I watch it again, praying Molly will turn around, run away. Of course she doesn't and the footage cuts out, looping around in some sort of perverse torture.

"Is there any more footage?" I ask

"Unfortunately not."

"How did she survive?"

"We don't know. Either they treated her…Or she was not as injured as believed."

It's like a stab to the stomach. Did I make a mistake? No. No one could misinterpret the way the colour drained from her face, the waves of blood pulsing onto the sand. So how is she alive?

"We're going to get her out?"

"Sadly it is not that simple," Captain Brown says delicately.

"What?" I growl.

"The compound is incredibly well guarded. It could cost considerable damage to our troops."

"So we're going to just leave her in there?"

"We're going to observe the situation before deciding the best course of action."

"She is stuck in their compound! Who knows what the fuck they're doing with her! And you're telling me that we're just going to let them!"

"Show some respect!"

I've never heard Captain Brown raise his voice, and for once he looks truly angry.

"We are not going to do nothing. We are going to minimize collateral damage. Now can you control your emotions or do you need to be taken off the mission?"

"Sorry sir," I say through gritted teeth. Then I salute and dismiss myself before I punch him.


	5. Existing

I spend the next few days moving listlessly between the tents, unable to settle. I'm hardly hungry, and don't bother to shower until Kinders shoves a towel and shampoo into my hands, insisting that "it'll be better for the whole camp".

I barely talk to anyone else, ignoring the rest of Two Section. I know I shouldn't; it's times like these that a leader must lead. Yet I can't bring myself to talk to them. I hear an occasional burst of laughter or an impromptu football match, and want to scream at them. How dare they? With Molly, lost and frightened.

All this time alone leaves me with too much to think about. My imagination runs wild, especially in the dark night. Images of Molly, beaten and bloody, starving and thirsty, sobbing in a corner.

That's why, when Captain Brown summons me to the control tent, I'm ready to fight.

"We are planning an attack on the base."

I sigh with relief. Finally, time for revenge.

"The special forces are coming in."

"But we're helping?"

"No." Captain Brown says firmly. "Two Section will not be involved."

"But-"

"This is a high risk mission. The team coming in are highly trained and know how to deal with terrorists"

"Can't I-"

"We're not having this mission jeopardized." He replies firmly. "Continue with the drills. Two Section may be engaged elsewhere."

He doesn't say anything, but I know I'm being dismissed.

"Any news?" Smurf calls from the gym area.

"Special forces are going in!" I shout back. It's probably classified information, but I don't care. Molly's coming back!

Smurf nods, but doesn't look overjoyed.

"Molly's coming back!" I shout happily.

He shrugs. "She's not safe yet."

I frown a little. "Be a bit more optimistic…"

"They're terrorists, boss." He says, suddenly angry. "They're sick. They're twisted. She could already be dead. And even if she's still alive, do you have any idea how damaged she'll be?" He storms off, dropping a weight loudly, leaving me dumbfounded.

The special forces arrive just as the sun sets, the throbbing helicopter silhouetted against the streaky orange sky. Five beefy men jog into the camp, massive rucksacks on their backs. It's reassuring watching them slickly move as a unit. For once, I think Captain Brown was right.

They're sucked into the control tent, and I don't see them again until they resurface near midnight. When I wake in the morning, they're gone.


	6. Hope

Then we play the waiting game.

A restlessness falls on the camp. We move around, settling to nothing. Even the air is thick and humid, only making us more irritable.

I see the helicopter before Captain Brown comes hurrying out of the tent. I follow him, jogging to keep up with his long strides. Two of the team come back, and they're quickly stripped of their heavy equipment. Sweat drips down their face, and there are flecks of blood staining their skin.

"What happened?" Captain Brown barks, not bothering to wait to get inside the control tent.

"We were ambushed." One of them pants. "They knew we were coming. They had guns and homemade bombs."

"Where is the rest of your unit?"

"They were flown straight to Bastions," the other says.

"And the primary?"

I wait, hardly able to breathe.

"Dawes was flown straight to Bastions with them."

Captain Brown nods. "You did well. We will have a full investigation, but first, get checked over at the medic tent."

They nod, and shuffle away.

"Sir, please. You've got to let me to go Bastions." I say, a whine in my voice I wish I didn't have.

He watches me closely. "I don't have to do anything…" he pauses. "But I will allow you two days leave to travel to Bastions. You can go with the trucks tonight."

I nod. My kit is already packed up and it takes only a few minutes to grab it and get swung into one of the jeeps.

The sun is just peeking out from the horizon by the time we arrive, the sky streaked with dusky blue, silhouetting the hospital. We step from a world of dust and mayhem to an air-conditioned hospital, the bright white walls and floor blinding. Here man has conquered the desert, pushing it down with concrete and linoleum flooring.

I'm ushered through a maze of corridors, no one questioning my right to be here. Maybe my sallow, unshaven face is enough.

The nurse points through a window into a private room. It's dark, but it's definitely Molly. I place my hand on the glass, wanting to go in and hug her. Even from here I can see she looks awful. Even in the dark, her bruising and cuts are visible.

"Can I go in?" I ask the nurse.

She shakes her head. "She's about to go into surgery."

"What's wrong?"

"Who are you?"

"Her boss."

She smiles wryly. "So far it's a ruptured spleen, broken ribs, internal bleeding, fractured femur, multiple lacerations. Not to mention dehydration and malnutrition. We're doing an MRI and CT in a minute because she's sustained serious head trauma." She looks sadly at Molly, lying peacefully in her bed. "She's got a long way to go."

I nod. If I open my mouth to talk I'll probably burst into tears. It suddenly seems so real. When I was alone back at camp, it was like living in a nightmare. Now I've woken up, but the nightmare's real life.

"It's a tough one to stay professional on."

I blink. I forgot the nurse was there.

"She was one of us. A medic, that is. She was so sweet and chatty. I see guys in here, missing bits of their body, shot or blown up. That's the reality of war. But this...this seems against the rules."

I don't reply, but she carries on talking.

"To take another human being and torture them...she's so young as well…"

I nod. She's right, and managed to vocalise everything I hate about warfare.


	7. Now

A doctor comes out of the room, and the nurse hurries away with him, leaving me alone to watch Molly.

I'm exhausted, and when a Molly's whisked away to surgery, I find some plastic chairs and settle down to sleep. For the first time since she went missing, I feel I can get some proper rest.

When I wake it's early evening, and my neck is so stiff I can barely move it. I drag myself to the coffee machine and force down a black coffee, although it's lukewarm and disgusting. I'm still, groggy, but I manage to find my way back to Molly's room. She's there, looking slightly less corpse-like, with a thick bandage around her head. The same nurse is in there, and she bustles out when she sees me.

"Do you want to come in and sit with her?"

I smile gratefully, and follow her into the small room. She pulls up a chair, and I sit near Molly, my hand tenderly grazing hers.

"I'm just getting a saline drip to combat the dehydration." The nurse says brightly. "Then we just need to clean up the wounds and change the dressing."

I know she's talking on my behalf, and I'm grateful. Because I'm at a complete loss for words.

I take Molly's hand and press it to my lips. It smells not of coco-pops and dust and leather polish but of bitter anti-septic wipes. Her nails are long and chipped, mud and clots of blood stuck under them. I hardly want to think who's blood it is.

The nurse peels off her head bandage to reveal a nasty looking gash.

"Luckily no brain damage," the nurse says, as if this is some great gift.

"When will she wake up?" I ask softly.

"We took her off the medications about an hour ago, so she should be conscious by tomorrow. But she'll be groggy and disorientated."

I nod. I'll be here when she wakes up. Now she's finally safe, I won't be going anywhere.

Captain Brown gets here before Molly wakes up. He's with Major Beck, one of the bosses that I've seen occasionally at camp. I jump up immediately from my slouch, saluting smartly.

"At ease."

I sit back down.

"We've come to see how Private Dawes is doing." Captain Brown says. If he's forgotten how rude I was to him a few days ago, I'm not going to remind him.

"She's doing well," I say automatically, before realising that she's not. "As well as can be expected."

"She's gone through a severe trauma." Captain Brown says. "Mentally as well as physically."

"I know." I respond quickly. "When she's stable enough she should get home."

"That's what we came here for…" Captain Brown says. He looks at Major Beck almost anxiously. "We need Private Dawes to help identify and capture the men who took her."

I frown. They can't seriously be suggesting…

"We've decided to keep Private Dawes in Afghanistan." Major Beck says, cutting across his colleague. "She is too vital to send home. We need her here."

I'm shaking my head before he's even finished. "Absolutely not. She needs to get home and recover."

"Unfortunately, this is beyond your control," Major Beck says coldly. "These men are incredibly dangerous and need to be stopped. I'm sure this is what Dawes would want."

I'm about to retort, but I have to stop myself. Because this is what Molly would want. She was too bloody stubborn. She would have insisted on staying to finish what she'd started. And if I had told her to go, she would have stayed anyway.

Major Beck and Captain Brown go, and then there are ebbs and throbs of nurses, coming in to do checks and injections and blood samples. I sit there, unmoving, like a rock in the sand. Waiting for Molly to wake up.


	8. Fear

She wakes up at five in the morning, and I'm sent out of the room, a group of nurses and doctors blocking my view of her bed. I hear medical terms being thrown about, people walking in and out with drips and IV bags. I press my face against the glass window, hoping to catch a glimpse of her awake.

The doctors slowly filter out, followed later by the nurses, and finally, the one I was chatting to last night pokes her head round the door and invites me in.

I walk in slowly. Molly is propped up with some cushions, looking like she's been dragged to hell and back. But she's alive.

She turns to face me, and I wait for her to smile, her eyes to fill with joy.

Instead she screams.

It's a piercing, soul-aching scream. Her eyes are filled with fear, and she's thrashing about in the bed, pulling at the wires and drips.

The nurse lunges at the emergency button. I stumble backwards, shock freezing my body, watching as more doctors sprint into the room, trying to restrain Molly.

"Can someone get him out of the room?" a doctor shouts, and strong arms pull me away. I stand outside the room, shaking uncontrollably. Whatever I was expecting, it was not that. I watch through the window as Molly struggles, completely hysterical, thrashing out at invisible demons. She looks terrified, her eyes glazed with fear. What have they done to her?

Finally they get Molly sedated again, and a doctor approaches me.

"What happened?" I ask, my throat dry.

"She thinks you were the one to kidnap her."

"What?" My insides freeze.

"She kept saying it, over and over. That's what she believes."

"But...it's not true…" I say quietly.

"Unfortunately we have no idea what she went through with her captors."

"But to have such a vivid false memory?"

"A psychiatrist will talk to her when she wakes up."

"And until then?"

"Stay out of her way. Whatever she's going through she doesn't want you."

The doctor walks away quickly, leaving me, standing alone, sick to the stomach.


	9. Maybe

I'm asleep on some plastic chairs when I hear a rumble of voices nearby. I don't know why they stand out against the low hum of doctors, but I wake up and blink blearily. I was right. Two section stand, looking lost and out of place, their uniforms crumpled.

"Boss?"

Smurf speaks first, stepping towards me. If they look bad, I must look awful. I rub by unshaven face and try and get some of the dried sleep out of my eyes.

"How's Molly?" Kinders asks.

"Bad." I grunt. I don't want to talk to them. I don't want to explain.

"What happened? We got a call asking to come to the hospital." Kinders asks.

I shrug as if I don't care. "Molly woke up. Started screaming. Thought I was the one who kidnapped her."

Two section stare at me, gobsmacked.

"But you weren't...were you?" Mansfield Mike asks finally.

"Obviously not." Smurf says. "Are you an actual idiot?"

"Oh...sorry… I was a bit confused…"

Smurf rolls his eyes and turns back to me.

"Do you think she'll react badly to us?"

"I don't know." I say quietly. Terrible though it is, I want her to. I don't want to be the only one she hates.

A doctor bustles round the corner.

"Ah, you must be the section Molly was in?"

Kinders steps forward and shakes her hand. "Yes. I'm Kinders. This is Fingers, Smurf, Mansfield Mike and Dangleberries."

The doctor nods, obviously used to peculiar army names. "I'm Doctor Marsh. Come this way and I'll fill you in."

She sees me. "You'd better come too, James."

I try not to mind that I'm an afterthought, instead following on silently.

"Molly reacted badly to Captain James," Doctor Marsh explains.

"Yeah...he mentioned," Kinders says.

"She was confused so we sedated her. She has now woken up and seems to be calm. However, she has only been treated by strangers. We want to see how extensive the psychological damage is."

"Is she alright physically?"

"She's had two operations and is very tired. However, it is important we find out her psychological well being so we can start treating her."

We come to stop outside Molly's room.

"So what do we do?" Smurf asks.

"Who's least close to Molly?" Doctor Marsh asks.

Two section shuffle on the spot, looking at each other sheepishly.

"Probably me," Dangleberries says after a pause. "We haven't talked much."

"Okay. I want you to go in, chat to Molly and see how she reacts."

"Now?" Dangleberries says, surprised.

"Yes. There will be doctors present and sedation ready."

"What do I ask her?"

"Try and keep the topic of conversation light."

Dangleberries nodded, running his hand through his closely cropped hair.

Doctor Marsh opens the door and leads Dangleberries in. We watch through the half closed blinds as he enters the room. Molly moves her head, slowly, as if she's in immense pain, to reveal the cuts and bruises that decorate her swollen face.

"Bloody hell…" Kinders mutters under his breath. I've forgotten they haven't seen Molly yet. She's so different from the Molly that left the camp a few weeks ago. She's thinner, paler, weaker. Her feistiness seems to have been stamped out of her, leaving her looking like she could blow over in the wind.

"Molly?" Dangleberries asks softly.

She looks at him for a long moment, and I hold my breath. How will she react?

Then she breaks into a smile. "Dangleberries?"

He smiles too, letting out a sigh of relief.

"How are you feeling?"

"Bit shit," she says, sounding almost like the old Molly. "How are you?"

Dangleberries grins, "Fine."

"Thought no one was going to visit me." Molly says after a pause.

"We came as soon as the doctors said you could."

Molly nods slowly, accepting this piece of information. "What day is it?"

"Tuesday."

"No - what date?"

"The fourteenth of March." Dangleberries glances nervously at the doctor, wondering how much information he should reveal.

Molly's silent for a few moments, trying to work something out in her head.

"It's been three weeks then?"

Dangleberries nods sadly.

"I don't remember anything," Molly says quietly. "All I remember is being at camp with a group of guys. But I can't even remember their names."

Dangleberries looks at Doctor Marsh, but she's staring at Molly, frowning slightly.

"Well… there's Fingers, and Mansfield Mike, and Smurf…."

Molly doesn't react.

"You know what, Molly," Doctor Marsh interrupts. "They're nearby. Do you want them to pop in?"

She nods slowly, unsure of what she wants herself.

Doctor Marsh comes back into the corridor.

"Smurf?" She asks.

Smurf shakes his head. "We were close. Like best friends."

I try not to feel jealous when he says this.

"I'll go," Kinders says. "We were always professional together."

Kinders walks in slowly.

"Hi Molly."

She stares at him, before smiling slowly.

"Kin...Kin…?" she tries to remember his name.

"Kinders." He says, hiding any sadness at having been forgotten. "I was the second in command in Two section."

Molly absorbs this information.

"Where are we?"

"Brize Norton. In Afghanistan."

"Why can't I remember anything?"

Kinders looks agonized. "I'm sorry. We don't know."

Molly rests her head back and stares at the ceiling, sighing out gently.

"Are you tired Molly?" Doctor Marsh prompts.

"A little," she admits. "But please. Don't leave me alone again." Her voice is so hopeless, so lost, that I want to go in and hug her, tell her she's safe. Except I'm stuck outside, watching Dangleberries and Kinders try and comfort her.

"You're not alone now Molls. You're safe."

She doesn't reply, and eventually she closes her eyes and Doctor Marsh signals them to leave the room.


	10. Please

"So you have no idea what's going on?" I ask impatiently.

"I have my theories. But the brain is a fragile and complex thing," Doctor Marsh replies.

"I know, I know. You've said." I don't want to be rude, but she's giving me no answers. "But can't you talk to her. Find out what's going on. This can't be the first time this has happened."

"It's the first case I've ever seen. I've rung up some friends back in the UK, and they have given me some ideas for treatment."

"What?!" I say, exasperated. Trying to get straight answers out of this woman is impossible.

"One suggestion is that she's so confused that she's hallucinating. But this is unlikely - she recognised your colleagues and had not problem with them. Another possibility is that she has mixed up someone very close to her with her captors."

"Is that possible?"

"When the mind undergoes severe stress, yes."

"But you don't think it's that?"

Doctor Marsh stares at her hands for a second before speaking.

"There is a complex form of psychotherapy that could alter memories. We don't know what happened in there. But there are ways her captors could persuade her that you were the real threat."

I'm so stunned I can hardly breathe.

"How?" I whisper.

"As I said, it's incredibly advanced. It involves bringing up memories of that person and then associating them with pain. If the patient is emotionally and physically exhausted, pushed to their mental limits, they will make associations that they would not make when in a rational state of mind."

"Why me?"

"Maybe they knew about the relationship?"

Our love has got her hurt.

"Can you reverse it?"

Doctor Marsh sighs. "I have no idea. I don't even know if this is the condition. It could take months to heal."

"I'll stay." I say immediately. "I'll be here every step of the way."

"I thought you'd say that. But maybe that's not best for Molly."

"I'll stay out of sight. I just…" my voice is desperate, "I just need to know she's alright."

Doctor Marsh nods. "Very well. If it has been cleared by your officials, you can stay."

I ring Major Beck immediately.

"Sir? It's Captain James."

"Ah, yes. How's Private Dawes?"

I pause. "Physically improving."

"And mentally?"

I sigh. "She thinks I'm the one who kidnapped her."

"What?!"

"I know. Doctor Marsh reckons they've done some sort of psychotherapy on her."

"Really? They're just terrorists. I doubt they've done anything too scientific."

"That's what the Doctor said."

"Look," Major Beck says, the weariness creeping into his voice. "I'm flying over in two days. We're going to interview those involved and assess the situation."

"Can I stay here until then?"

"Where's Two Section?"

"We've all be waiting at the hospital."

Major Beck sighs again. "Fine. Stay there until I arrive."

"Thank you sir."

"Look after yourself, Captain James."

"I will."

Then he hangs up.


	11. Memories

**Sorry it's been so long since I've updated - I hope you guys can still enjoy this!**

When Major Beck arrives, two days later, little has changed. Molly is still stuck in bed. She's talked to Dangleberries some more. They tried to play a game of snap, but she couldn't remember how to play, and kept getting confused and frustrated, so eventually they gave up.

The rest of Two Section booked into a nearby hotel and have been relaxing and messing around since. Only Smurf and I have stayed in the plastic chairs outside Molly's room, waiting for any change.

Major Beck brings with him a neurologist, a psychiatrist and some other army official I've never met, though she seems nice.

"We're going to try and uncover what happened." Major Beck explains to Smurf and me. "So we're going to interview you each in turn, get your side of the story."

"And Molly?"

"We will interview Private Dawes. Doctor Marsh has said she is mentally stable."

Mentally stable? She was sobbing over a game of snap about two hours ago. But I hold my tongue. I know Major Beck has pulled some strings to get Two Section a break.

They take Smurf off first, into the break room. They're gone for nearly an hour before I'm taken in there too.

Major Beck turns on the microphone. "Time is 12.16 on Wednesday 5th March. Present is Major Beck and Lieutenant Colonel Davis." He looks at the woman sat next to him. "Interviewing Captain Charles James about the incident that took place on Tuesday 21st February."

He smiles at me.

"Can you tell us in your own words, what happened on Tuesday 21st February."

I take a deep breath. "We were trying to take a fortification on the hill. There had been some tip off or leak or something, because when we arrived there was serious opposition. We tried to fight, but it was pointless. I told everyone to evacuate. We began to evacuate when Molly - sorry, Private Dawes - was hit. I treated Private Dawes whilst two other members of Two Section covered me. I told the rest of the section to continue the evacuation." Reliving the experience is almost worse than actually being there. Did I make the right decision? Could I have stopped all of this from happening?

"However, the enemy was too close, and I made the decision to leave Private Dawes and evacuate the two other members of the section."

"And how injured was Private Dawes?" Major Beck asked.

"I'm not a medic, but it seemed serious. I gave her morphine, but I couldn't stop the bleed. It was extensive and seemed fatal."

Major Beck nodded and didn't push it any further.

"Honestly sir. I thought she was dead." Tears choke in my throat and my voice cracks.

"I believe you Captain."

Tears fall, and I don't care that I look weak in front of my superiors.

"Do you need a minute Captain James?"

I nod, unable to speak through the emotion, and Major Beck leans forward and pauses the tape recorder. He glances at Colonel Davis, who fishes a crumpled tissue out of her pocket it and hands it to me. I take it gratefully, blowing my nose and trying to take back control.

"Ready?" Major Beck asks after an uncomfortable silence, and, after a nod of confirmation, he turns the tape recorder back on.

Later, after they've interviewed Fingers and Molly, Major Beck and Colonel Davis talk to one of the nurses. They've left their recorder out on the table in the break room. With one press of a button I could hear Molly's side of the story. I glance through the partly open door. They're deep in chat.

I turn back to the recorder and press play. Molly was the last interview they did so it doesn't take long to rewind to the start.

"The time is 15.32 on Wednesday 5th March. Present is Major Beck and Lieutenant Colonel Davis, interviewing Private Molly Dawes about the incident that took place on Tuesday 21st February." Major Beck's familiar voice fills the room. "Private Dawes, can you please tell us everything you remember about the incident."

"I don't remember much."

Her voice hits me. I haven't heard it - not properly, in weeks. She sounds so broken, so lost. I just want to hold her tight and never let her go.

"Do you remember the assault Two Section attempted?"

"Yes," she says, her voice full of relief that she can answer a question. "We were meant to be taking back a village. We were working alongside Four Section. I was the medic."

"Was the assault successful?"

"No. We were overrun. We tried to evacuate."

"Do you remember being shot?"

There's a pause as she thinks about this. "I don't know if it's my actual memories or descriptions of the event or something I've just made up."

"Why don't you describe what you remember?"

"I was shot. In the abdomen. Someone put pressure on the wound. There were other soldiers around us. Then they all ran. The pain was terrible and I passed out…"

"Do you remember waking up?"

"No." Molly says, her voice shaky. "I don't remember much about the last three weeks."

"Do you remember any of the men who took you?"

"No. I remember seeing faces, but they were behind headscarves."

"Did you see anyone else? Another hostage?"

"I don't know."

"What about the injuries they inflicted?"

"I remember coming round. There were men in the room. They hit me with the butts of their rifles. One of them grabbed me round my throat-" Molly chokes at this point, like their hands are back round her neck. "Then they hit me on the head again, and I don't remember anything else."

"What about being rescued? Do you remember anything about being rescued?"

"A man arrived. He was different. He was wearing army uniform…" she pauses, trying to collect her memories or work out how to phrase it, I don't to know. "He helped me up, cut me out of the ropes. Then he took me outside. The light was so bright. I was tired and everything hurt. I think I fainted because I don't remember anything after that." Her voice is thick with tears. "I just remember. I thought it was heaven. The bright light. I thought I had died."

I stand up, slamming the stop button on the recorder and stalking out of the room. I need some fresh air. Molly. I just want to be with her, to help her. She needs so much but I can't give her any of it. I have to trust these doctors and psychiatrists who treat her mind like a playground. No one cares about her like I do. To them she's just another patient - a lucky medic to escape the clutches of the Taliban.

I wonder around the campus for a few hours. I'm sure they're not missing me, and I take the time to get something to eat, to wash my hair in the shower block and have a nap on the sofa in the pop-library that nobody seems to use. The campus is dull and homogenous - almost identical to every camp I've had to hang around on, but the pizza is good and the showers are warm, so I can't complain.


End file.
